Who said Paperboy was a Boring Job?
by Tig Oak
Summary: Who said paperboy was a boring job? To Alfred F. Jones, paper boy is anything BUT boring, considering he has insane neighbors. AU. Mentions of FeliksXToris and RoderichXElizabetha. But not too much. T for language.


**A/N: This story is dedicated to my forum France and forum Lithuania, because they were hard to get the paper to you. I'm so jealous of Lithuania for being a paperperson; Damn you!  
I hope you two enjoy!  
**

**(And Ting Ting is Vietnam. That character is dedicated to you, forum Vietnam)**

* * *

_**Nert. Nert. Nert. Nert. Nert-**_

"Shut up!"

_**Nert. Nert. N-**_

"SHUT UP!"

BANG!

_**Nert. Nert. Nert. Nert. Nert.**_

"…Ugggh."

A groggy teenager rolled out of bed and sighed, walking over and picking up his alarm clock, flinching at the sounds of it, "Shut. Up," he said as he hit the off button and sighed in relief at the beautiful silence. He grabbed his glasses and put them on his face and sighed. He blinked and looked at himself in the mirror, wiping the sleepies from his eyes. He nodded to himself and ruffled his hair, and somehow it all fell into place, except for one cowlick. But that was normal.

He walked to the closet and dressed quickly, and by now he'd waken his room-neighbor. His brother Matt, since they shared the wall Alfred always angrily chucked his alarm clock at.

"Alfred, please try to be quieter in the mornings."  
"Whatever, Matt," Alfred said as he ran down the stairs. The sun was just starting to rise. Matthew, knowing he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, sighed as he followed his brother down the stairs.

"Paper route? You got the job again? I thought they fired you last year 'cause you sucked."

"I didn't _suck,_ Matt. Just the neighborhoodians had an issue with how I delivered the papers."

"Neighborhoodians?"

"Yeah," Alfred shrugged and munched on his Poptart as he thought, "I hate waking up early, though."

Matthew nodded, "But didn't they fire you anyway?"

"They couldn't find anyone else willing to ride their bike around with a girly basket this early in the morning every Sunday."

"Oh I see."

Alfred grinned wide and laughed, "I set my alarm too early again," he mumbled, so him and Matt sat on the couch watching cartoons until about six and Alfred sighed, getting up and giving a two fingered lazy salute to Matthew before walking out into the garage. He clicked it open and yawned, grabbing his bike and the pile of papers by it. He pulled the string that was keeping them together and dumped them all in the basket. He kicked the stand and wheeled the bike from the garage. He slung his leg over the seat and sat down, sighing.

It was only a summer job, because he didn't want to have to get up that early on the weekends when the next day he had to get up for school anyway. It was his only break!  
He sighed and took a deep breath, getting a hold of his first paper. Some houses, he really hated going by, like his across -the-street neighbor. An eternally pissed off Englishman that his parents _insisted_ on inviting to every party held in their house ever. Except for birthday parties.

He sighed and threw the paper. But like almost every time, the man opened the door and it smacked him right in the face, "ALFRED!"

And like every other time, the boy couldn't help but laugh, "I'm sorry, Mr. Kirkland, but it seems like you wait for me in the window and open it right when I go to throw it!"

"You just wait out there, don't you?" he asked, as he leaned down and picked it up.

"Honestly, Mr. Kirkland, I don't. Ask Matt, I JUST started my route."

"Who's Matt?"

"Um… Never mind," he sighed and began to push on the pedals again, and he could still hear the man grumbling. Alfred rolled his eyes and continued on, not really caring how fast he was going. He chucked the paper into a few more lawns before squeaking.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit," he went to pick up his pace, but slid in some water and fell. He groaned and froze when heard the door open.

eeee"YOU!"

He closed his eyes and stood slowly, "Sorry, sir, but-" he stopped and his eyes widened at the gun at was being pointed at him from the porch. He dropped his bike, letting it crash to the floor, and held his hands up, "What are you doing?"

The man had threatened to shoot him if he rode across his part of the sidewalk, but never before had he seen the gun.

"Get off my property," the Swiss man growled.

"Okay, yanno what?" Alfred yelled and pointed at him, "I'm tired of your complete and utter BULL SHIT, Mr. Zwingli! This is the PUBLIC side walk and I'm sorry that if you have a territory issue but sir, I need to ride past your house every bloody Sunday and if you can't handle it, I'll call the cops right now!" he stood there with his cheeks puffed as the gun was lowered and the man stared at him.

"…I like you, Jones."

"WHAT?"

"You are the first kid to stand up to me."

Alfred just got on his bike, "See you next Sunday, Mr. Zwingli."

The teenager sighed. That was so weird. He'd never heard Vash say anything of the sort, and it honestly freaked him out_. 'Is he going to kill me in my sleep?'_

He had no time to think this notion through, he heard a laugh coming from his right. He grabbed a paper and chucked it directly at the voice, not looking away from the sidewalk and a second later heard an "OW! You fucking pansy!"

He smirked at the pain he'd caused his classmate, and sang, "Love you, too, Gilbert, seeya next Sunday~"

"Gilbert, why do you wait for him?"

"Ludwig already TOLD you, so I can chuck rocks at the nerd!" he laughed and without skipping a beat, a rock sailed into the back of Alfred's head, almost causing him to lose control of the bike. He glared back at Gilbert but kept riding, but heard Ludwig shout an apology before riding to the next house that wanted a paper.

He stopped and smiled kindly, "Mrs. Edelstein?"

"Oh right here!" A Hungarian woman stood and wiped her dirty hands on her dirty dress and took the paper. She'd clearly been gardening, "Thank you, Alfred! Would you like something to eat?"

"Ah, Mrs. Edelstein," he said as he leaned on his right foot, keeping his left on the pedals and his hands on the handlebars, "You know I'd love to, your husband makes awesome cakes, but I'm working."

It was then the brunette noticed the papers in the basket and what she'd previously been handed, "Oh! You got the job again! Well that's very nice," she patted his head and heard laughter from the other side of the gate. Her face darkened, "Did that boy give you trouble again?"

"Yes ma'am."

"That boy!" she snapped and walked out of the gate into the yard next door while screeching, "GIBLERT!"

"AUGH! MRS. ELIZAVETA!"

"Gilbert I told you, you wouldn't like the consequences."

"SHUT UP LUDWI- OW IS THAT LEGAL- OW STOP HITTING ME YOU CRAZY BITCH!"

Alfred was cracking up, "Thanks, Mrs. Edelstein!" he shouted as he continued to ride, but his suddenly chirpy mood was cut down when he got a creepy, old decrepit house.

He'd heard stories about the man who lived in there. That the man was be a Russian spy from back in the 60's, and that he actually killed someone. He shivered at the thought, and threw the paper. He didn't want to look in the window, but for some reason, his mind forced him to. A creepy pale face and wide, insane violet eyes staring back at him. A sinister smile played on the man's pink lips.

Alfred's heart stopped, and for the second time, he almost lost control of his bike, but instead picked up the pace.

"Oh SHIT that house scares the shit out of me!" he wailed as he continued to ride as fast as he could peddle, and surprisingly, he was able to get all the papers of the next few houses distributed. He sighed and finally slowed down, going at an almost sluggish pace. Just fast enough to keep himself from winding all over the paved path.

"Are you, like, the paperboy?"

"Eh?" Alfred looked over and nodded to a blond person, keeping his super slow pace, "Yeah!"

He noted a Polish flag waving in front of the house. Oh, so that's why he had an accent.

"Oh, that's like, totally awesome! Me and my husband just moved in and we like, want to get to know EVERYONE."

Alfred found it strange that the man was wearing a skirt and a tank top, and has his ears pierced, but he dismissed it, and actually embraced it. He liked free-expression. He smiled, but continued to ride, "Well, my name's Alfred. You'll be seeing me every Sunday!"

"I'm Feliks, and my husband is Toris. You should seriously come over some time, I think I have some things that you'd look TOTALLY fab-u-lous in," every syllable of the word "fabulous" was emphasized with a different hand gesture.

Alfred laughed, "Will do!" he said, before a brunette called the Polish man back in. He looked at Alfred with his green eyes and smiled smiled, giving a sheepish wave before closing the door. Alfred smiled, glad to have someone else nice in the neighborhood. Maybe if they got enough it would cut out the shittiness of a few other neighbors around.

The next ones were at least semi-pleasant. He sighed as he was forced to stop his bike completely, put the stand down, and walk down the winding path (he was told by the Chinese man that lived here, that it was because of something about Feng Shui and spirits) and looked around at the elaborately cut bushes and trees. Gently, he set the paper down on the floor and headed back.

"Sank you, Arufredo," A short man called and Alfred turned around.

"Yep, no problem, Honda-San!" he called back, waving and walking backwards. The Asian family, last summer, had established they didn't want Alfred throwing the paper in their precious shrubbery, so worked out with him that he must get off his bike, put it on the doorstep, and walk back. He hated that, but did it anyway since he was a pushover.

"GET OFF MY LAWN YOU YANK!"

Alfred picked up his pace. His mind flashed the warning: **Evil little girl! Evil little girl!**

But as soon as he turned around, the girl had somehow ninjaed her way in front of the American and was holding a squirt gun to his head.

"Well I can't really get off your lawn if you're standing in front of me, Ting Ting."

She glared and squirted him right in the face.

"Ting Ting!" Kiku shouted from the door and walked over. He looked at Alfred, who was just standing there and taking the abuse like a man. He sighed. He didn't really mind except for the fact that now his glasses were wet, "I am very sorry, Arufredo."

"It's, um, fine."

"Good!" the Vietnamese girl shouted as she squirted Alfred again, but the gun was taken by the older man.

"Come on, Ting Ting," he said, sighing.

She stuck her tongue out at Alfred's back as she was dragged away.

He sighed and pulled a tissue from his pocket, since that happened frequently the summer before and cleaned off his glasses as he finally made it back to his bike.

He got on, and began to ride again. '_Almost done, Al. Almost done.'_ He thought comfortingly to himself as he picked up the pace again.

He looked over at a Spanish style house and he puffed his cheeks again. The man inside knew that Alfred was taking Spanish in school (Against his will. He had to take a foreign language) and decided to give Alfred a crash course in Spanish every Sunday. When he knew the boy was passing, of course. He aimed as best he could, and chucked the paper at the doorstep, but it hit the door first. He sighed in defeat, knowing that the Spaniard inside would think the thumb was a knock. He sped up a bit, but it was too late, "AH ALFRED MI AMIGO! Como estas! Buen, no!"

Alfred jumped at the shout, and hit a bush with the front tire of his bike and sent him flying into the yard next door.

It took a second to process what had happened.

Oh no.

"Oh, Alfred, nice of you to make an appearance." A French accent purred, "My favorite paperboy. Is that paper in the basket for me?"

Alfred groaned. This guy was such a creeper.

"Yes, Mr. Bonnef-"

"Call me Francis."

"Yeah, Francis," he said, and out of habit took the man's hand and was helped up. The man clasped his other hand over Alfred's and stared directly in his eyes.

"Alfred. Would you like to come inside for so-"

"NO! No, thank you. I-I'm fine," Alfred tried to yank his hand away, but the man kept hold, "Mr. Bonn- Francis. I um, need to continue with my paper route. Please."

"Oh, how sad," the man reached out and patted Alfred's cheek. No words could describe the look on Alfred's face. His eye was twitching slightly, and his mouth was in an open frown, almost looking disgusted at the Frenchman's hand.

"Francis, he has a job to do you fuckin' PERVERT!"

Alfred looked over at his Italian savior, then closed his eyes instantly to see that the man was only in boxers. The Frenchman removed his hands from Alfred and smiled, "Lovino, I like that look for you."

Alfred ran to his bike before anything else could happen, but the Italian grabbed the boy's shoulder, "Is THIS why you're always late delivering my fucking paper?" he yelled, "Bonnefoy is busy making his pedophile moves on y- DON'T TOUCH ME!" he shouted and flailed, as the Frenchman had firmly placed his hand on his ass.

Alfred wanted nothing more than to just leave.

"Ah Lovi~" was all Alfred could understand before rapid Spanish filled the air. Alfred could only interpret it as flirting, by the color the Italian was turning.

A almost identical man came out of the house (Alfred wasn't too happy to find that this man was also in his _more revealing _underwear) just in time to hear Lovino shout.

"Fuck all of you!" he and leaned down to grab the paper, getting a firm smack on the ass from the Spaniard, who received a hit in the face with the paper.

The second Italian, known to Alfred as Feliciano, ran over and grabbed his brother's arm, "Lovino~ The breakfast pasta's done~ The Lucky Charm cooked nicely in the sauce~"

And with that, Alfred rode off, breathing heavy, and riding as fast as he could. Until his legs burned. Finally he was home, and he just collapsed in a heap in front of his house, the bike lying next to him, and laying there staring at the morning sky as his chest rose and fell, "I hate my job."

"It only gets worse from here!" Arthur called from across the street as he entered his car and drove off. But the paper was tucked underneath his arm, and that's all Alfred cared about.


End file.
